Cyclops that dwells deep within

Eyes flutter back into my head.
my skull crumbles into shattered pieces,
shards glare in eternal light,
my knees collapse like twin towers.

Another child born in a cardboard box,
Pondering why is trashitarianism,
is a new fad, or just a new way to starve her people.

Just another yellow brick in the road,
chanting we built this city on rock and roll,
for the other bricks in the wall.

I would shout as loud as I could,
if I thought it mattered, You agreed
so we shouted together just to watch,
the earth stand still.

We sit and spin more webs of souls,
bound together woven in blood and bone.

DNA,
scribes the thresh hold.
forgotten names we are never told.

When we wake in the deep, deep, sleep.
The whole story unfolds, nor questions nor answers,
nor glories, nor faith...will compare to its blissfull
blindness...to be forgiven, knowing there is nothing to forgive.

When we awaken this Cyclops that dwells deep within us all...

LKCP2KXIV

My Sands

I once whispered words to a grain of sand, it multiplied into a vast sea of sand which later became an ocean floor.

they never wrote books about me and credited these feats, to myths and gods.

unattached to the fable, I brush the facts off my shoulders for it brings joy to see all the people enjoying what I had left for them.

Please stop polluting the water which houses my sand that you play on, and craft into glass.

LKCP2KXIV

I too, Hermit.

I too.
    a
Hermit,
wandering this,
holographic
forest.
Illusions.
fire walk,
with me.
on
galactic,
twin peaks...

She speaks,
in
immortal tongue.
twisters.
vibration.
they raise,
dead
and
dying.
Awakening,

dormant.
emotions.
call upon,
inner demons.

Heretic.
please.
speak up.
on.
the
soap box.
for which...
you stand.

Heathens,
he preached.
condemned.
they all.
damned.
preyed,
on feeble minds.

I.
grazed.
on the...
Dead's
citric wisdom.

engaged,
stigmatic aura
crystal...
dwellings.
on dragon lines.

we shifted.

yet.
grains
of time.

remain still.

As Loud as Gods and Prophets

I feel, like Imploding as if from the outside in,
Insider whistles spreading sacred info to blow down leaders.
In a sea of fallen trees,
I see through eyes of newspapers,
The words assassinated truth.
Lies grow, heavy in the mind.
They smelt bombs with, Dis honorable precious metals.
They fused it with great science and laughter,
Embellished flags with sacred cultural symbols
Stolen from temples of Nepal.
And they hide this knowledge encrypted in Media,
Blindside the youth,
Enslaved their wonder,
Burnt the books before eyes,
They never had a chance to caress a page.
I wonder.
What goes through a child’s mind?
Witnessing worlds of knowledge,
Consumed in a world of fire.
Though the heart remains,
And thirsts for knowledge increased.
We seek what is not War,
We seek something Other than peace,
We need a voice that can be heard,
A voice louder than God itself.
A voice to give is a reason to Do,
Instead of try,
Maybe then we will achieve days,
Where Peace may hold meaning,
Love of Truth may be practiced,
Turning of elements felt,
And every Child,
of the world may experience Wealth.
LKCP2KXIII

Nightshade Daydreams

I have seen spirits,
of the imortal soul,
I have listened,
to the Banshee speak in tongues...
I have been possessed,
by ghost from all spectrums.

beyond the night,
beyond centers of stars,
beyond the 7 gates...enter the minds eye.

drift into shakti abyss,
find the center of self...
reflected in the black waters of night.

deadly nightshade daydreams,
walking on thin air,
listening to sylphs,
conversate with elves.

contemplating
the balance,
of what
is that
which
is above.


LKCP2KXIII

Insomniax Doktrine Vol. 1

first book i had written http://www.amazon.com/Insomniax-Doktrine-Lance-Cruz-Phromnopavong/dp/1257070576

Atoms Split

When a
thought dropped,
words caressed
the page in scriptures,
atoms split while
mending simultaneously.

conflicted
is he
in the eyes of the one,
the center
is the
furthest point
of self yet,
lay so near,
the serpent slumbers
beneath the sun.

Cranium, ponders Will.
will I be the
snake charmer
and call fourth,
divine powers
of the Shakti,
and dance within
self of inner space,
or remain among the
walking dead,
Searching for what
is already there.

Hidden beneath
the solar rays,
inverted beside the vortexes,
silently humming...
Galactic drums sound
can only be heard in
the silence.

LKCP2KXIII

Dreams Agenda

Our world, so advanced yet some how we are not Civil-ly evolved. We had a deep rooted esoteric foundation, a modern infrastructure yet, we still act like we are from barbaric times.

Here we thought to have established democracy...yet our leaders seem to act out as monarchy.

What example have we set fourth for our youth in these last generations...how much further would our space travel technology be if we spent less time destroying each other for a knowledge that should be shared.

If the gods spoke to us as they did would there still be a need for blood, as advanced as we are today...or as we should be.

Already some have chosen the path of the microchip...but to me to become part machine is not the organic evolution of the human matter.

cell phones are like primitive versions of, telepathy. An alien whispered through the eclipse and asked the world forgivness.

Vexed in a world wind of restless thought, I see clutters of visions left in a world of broken dreams, fight over who knows god most?

I find it intriguing yet hard to believe that it only has to do with religion. We see the outcome when one seeks mystery...burnt at the stake.

This poverty can be erased if we took our explosive, devices set them aside...and made more devices for growing food sources in droughted countries.

Use that money to find ways to purify our oceans...how many more messes will we leave for our children to clean.

One day we will realize that all of our technology combined can make great instruments of mass_ ive healing...

And then my alam clock rang, third eye closes eyes awakened, I pondered, were it sweat our a trailing tear running into the myst.

LKCP2KXIII

aka L.K. Cruz P.

Excuses

In 

the name of the gods,

how many crimes have been commited,

"justified"

by Law.

Villiages pilliaged,

it evolved into cites,

then whole nations invaded,

Cleansed by the name of our Gods?

Then one wonders why,

if the Gods are so great then why,

do we war with angels and holy beings...

as sons of man,

One starts to consider why do we worship,

the very ones we slain.

if that Power was so 

great, then why did we not

embrace the new race.

For who is not,

made of dust from all the cosmos.

One 

can see the Cosmos

from the blind zero point center of light.

Yet the journey traveled, has been long

Seeked

outside of self.

the Gods are nothing 

without Self

if
self 

is nothing withought
the gods. 

360°

in an 108°

9 sided Atmosphere

the Scryer 

stands.

LKCP2KXIII

Ring in the New Year with a free One-Week Day-by-Day Forecast!

When was the day...

When was the day,

We were born out of shadows...

From the hollows of which we,

Came fourth into light of All.

What adds value to this illusion

if we cannot see its truths,

Veil after veil seeking to reach

the center of the Sun,

Trying to figure out how

to preserve the One.

Self.

Aware.

Some days we find heroes...

beyond the stones of immortals.

The songs of the silence share, wisdom's amongst her people.

Let not us be consumed,

the demons cry out for souls...

Re read the ancient riddles, scriptures scribed on

Dragons tongue.

Answers awaiting engraved in walls,

incantations of the neXt generation.

-LKCP2KXIII-

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In the Form of...

Eyes closed feeling the universe. Eyes open seeing multiverses, walking amongst us. Interaction of each galaxies conjugation of telepathy weaving... Invisible webs of life. Thoughts emitting transparent strings, attached to sleepless nights. Walking in worlds of dreams caressing the outer limits of subconscious. Gliding on the wings of nibiru towed by the fiery spirit of the Phoenix. They gathered under streetlights and told tales of the camp fires of old. Tales, of the ancient ones, of great necromancers cleansing the zombies purge. Tales of the sages preserving the arts mastery of healing souls... Of the craft that binds the constellations and of divinty of working together. That a synergy is all greater than energy, crop circles emerge in the roar of the silence...the light of the Sun came, In the form of a fallen star. LKCP2KXIII

Reflection of Duality

Written on pages of thin air...history recorded archived in collective unconscious we roam freely within its pages.
Making use of a full cycle of Sun to Moon, Lunar to Solaris in our modern divisions of this observations we categorize as time.
Till the day we see clearly through eyelids, piercing illusionary visions we bend perceptions of what is "real".
Lost in false matter searching for importance in its state of being, reflections taking first steps out of the glass...
Or were itself a product from the silver gate which side was more real, the reflective material or the glass & gum that binds dimensions as one.
Now both stand before the mirror for the first time a quadrant perspective of its dualistic program revealed...
Question upon questions arise, and the one that lingers how many more reflected will step beyond the gate, will they ever fuse into the same body as one...
Creator,
Or forever endlessly search an eternity outside the self for answers which they have no questions.

LKCP2KXIII